Under The Winter Sky

Chimera Poetry

The sky is winterfrosted and sharp
and as you clatter down the stone steps
something shimmering and white pulls your eyes and 
in the dusk she stands
she smiles
a smile of promise and the hunger of a thousand arctic nights and of 
of a kind
but you are hard and helpless all at once and somehow get through your maze of doors
the keys tossed in a tiny clash of metal
and the bed takes the collision in a bluish white glow of a blizzard
and the stars are cold in her eyes and they reflect the stars diamond bright against your back
and you are pierced with them 
between them
until the light grows warm
and the sheets are empty 
cooled flat by the press of unearthly flesh
and you travel the streets with no desire for the sparkling eyes
or the full 
too full

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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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3 Responses to Under The Winter Sky

  1. You certainly are a poet this piece is beautiful and an above normal write. Thanks for sharing.

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